Maiden Eagle
by Phantom Gypsy
Summary: Upon realizing that he needs to create the "Brotherhood," Ezio cleverly decides to first recruit the people that he knows can't say no; the women.
1. Venezia

**A/N: Now, having watched all the new trailers for "Brotherhood," I'm stoked. ^_^ This is supposed to take place post ACII and perhaps a year or two before "Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood." **

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Elena wasn't a particularly striking woman at first glance. She had large, brown eyes and dark, wavy hair that tended to frizz around her face if she didn't pull it back in a thick ponytail that hung below her ribs. Soft cheekbones and plump, rosy lips were common enough in most Italian women and her small physique was a far cry from the impressive long-legged, lengthy-backed Russian women she had met once in Florence.

But to the local baker who'd bothered to linger on her a moment more or the skittish young boy that always heckled her to buy a fresh bushel of apples, she was a subtle, sharp beauty. Her eyes weren't just brown; they were tinged with green and framed with slender, exquisite eyebrows that could've put many of the town's architectural arches to shame. She moved with graceful poise, gliding through the market square as if she were wearing a noble woman's royal blue velvet instead of the drab, mud-splattered frock that hung loosely from her petite shoulders. She was nondescript enough to vanish amongst the crowd, yet pretty enough to be noticed. And for that, she was grateful.

"Dio, could they make these things any smaller?"

Elena looked away from the city of Venice sprawled before them and turned to glance back at her mother. To put it nicely, her mother was round. Very round and very uncomfortable while sitting cross-legged in the middle of the gondola. Elena smiled at her mother's scrunched face; the smell of Venice would take some getting used to.

"Eh?"

Elena's father, with his grey beard blowing in the stinking wind, was sitting towards the front of the small boat and looking around at everything, even though his blue-glazed eyes could see nothing.

"I can't imagine why Serafina would want to live here," the older woman grumbled. "What's so wrong with a nice manor out in the countryside and a few horses and chickens and a pretty little garden?"

Elena rolled her eyes. "It's not like she had a choice, Mamma. Can't you just be happy that your newly-wed daughter has a good home to live in and a husband that loves her?"

"Sì, sì, I am. But," she covered her face with her sleeve, "why does it have to smell like fish and feet?"

Elena smiled and glanced at the cloudy waters skimming by the boat. Serafina was six years younger than her, but had managed to fall in love by the age of twenty with Alessandro De Luca da Venezia, a young seaman who made a living sailing the coasts of Italy. Ever since her sister's marriage two years ago, Elena had found herself very lonely in her parent's household, playing the role of the notorious spinster maid. At nearly thirty, she had resigned herself to this fate, though not unhappily. Men, she had decided a long time ago, were more trouble than they're worth.

The gondola drifted out of the mainstream current and pulled alongside one of the many warped docks that looked as though they were about to sink into the murky waters.

Elena stood. "Mamma, I'll be right back."

"Elena! Elena, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back!"

Abandoning her mother and father in the unstable gondola, she flew out of the small boat and raced along the dock, the salty air stealing the hem of her baggy, brown dress. She ran along the narrow, cobblestone roads with an idiotic grin on her face the entire time. She'd been waiting two very long, very boring years to see her sister again and she'd be damned if she was about to delay that reunion by walking.

Rounding a corner at full-speed, she nearly collided with a nobleman and his escort.

Laughing, she tried to apologize.

"Scusi! Dispiace, signore!" (Excuse me! Sorry, sir!) For some reason, he didn't find it as funny.

She finally reached the outskirts of the little sinking island and caught sight of the ancient wooden door that led into the house. Elena skipped the stone steps two at a time to reach it and burst through without even bothering to knock.

"Fina!" she called. "Serafina!"

At first, only empty echoes replied and almost Elena wondered if she'd just invaded the wrong house. Then,

"Elena?"

Serafina was so much different than her sister in every way, that many a joke had been passed around the dinner table, accusing their parents of having strayed from their faithful marriage. She was taller, with a beautifully long neck that drew more attention from the men than the courtesans did with their thighs, had golden hair that sparkled when the sun hit it, and massive blue eyes that seemed to swallow whatever they looked at.

She trotted down the stairs, laughing when Elena raced up the last few to meet her halfway and embrace her in a binding hug.

"It is you! I cannot believe it!"

"Sì, it's been forever!" Elena ran her fingers through her sister's blonde locks. "How I've missed you, Fina! You can't imagine."

"And I you! I'm not used to having a house all to myself."

The two sisters stepped back and looked each other over.

"All to yourself?" Elena wondered, grinning. "Then what, pray, have you done with Messer Alessandro? Dumped him in the canal?"

"No, idiota! He's out at sea, but he'll be back tomorrow. The house just feels so empty and big when he's not here."

"You mean your bed feels empty and big."

They laughed until Serafina seemed to finally realize that he sister was alone.

"Where's Mamma and Papà?"

"Oh, they're coming. You know them, the sun will start to set before they—"

Serafina grabbed her sister by the forearm, hard, and suddenly dragged her into the next room, ignoring the giggly yelp from Elena.

"Ouch! What are you doing?"

The blonde turned back to her, blue eyes sparkling darkly, as if she was waiting on edge to blurt out the biggest secret in all of Italy. She licked her lips nervously.

"Elena, go upstairs and tell him to leave."

"What?"

"Before Mamma and Papà come. I'll go fetch them at the docks if you—"

"Serafina, what are you talking about?"

"Ezio."

Elena could feel her eyes trying to bulge out of her head, while her stomach took a nosedive down into her heels. She hadn't heard that name in a very long time, but within a few seconds, her mind was swimming in old memories of long nights of wine and drunken laughter and lewd conversations that always ended up being finished in bed.

"No, Serafina…he's here?"

"Sì."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you later."

The question blurted out before Elena even realized she'd asked it. "Did he bring Gabriele with him?"

At the mention of their brother's name, Serafina cast her eyes to the floor and shook her head/

"Elena, please. I promise I'll explain everything later, but I need you to go get him to leave. He's upstairs, in the bedroom—"

She threw up her hands and let out a bark of laughter. "Ah! Perfetto! (Perfect!) He's in the bedroom! And why me? What makes you think I can convince him to leave? You're the one who let him in!"

"Because he always listens to you better. And someone needs to fetch Mamma and Papà—"

Elena dragged her hands over her face and groaned. "Perché, Dio? Perché?" (Why, God? Why?)

Serafina started pushing her sister up the stairs. "Elena, go!"

"No!" Elena twirled on her sister and tried to form some kind of coherent sentence. "No! This is stupid! I can't believe you would do this! _You_ need to learn to refuse him!"

"Sì, sì, another time!"

"I haven't seen him in years and now you want me to just go and—"

"Elena!"

"Merda!" (Shit!) "I'm going! I'm going!"

Serafina made sure her sister was telling the truth, then staggered her way to the front door, every one of her limbs shuddering at the thought of what would happen if their parents found Ezio within the walls of her house.

She opened the door, just as she heard her older sister yell wildly from the top of the stairs,

"There will be hell to pay for this later, Fina! Hell to pay!"

At this very moment, Serafina was struggling just to walk in a straight line. Hell was the last thing she was worried about.

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**A/N: Ah, this should be fun ^_^**


	2. On the Ledge

**A/N: I. Am. So. Sorry. That it's taken me this long to update anything. The school semester started and I have not looked at any of my stories in a good several months. But now that _Brotherhood _is actually out and winter break has started, I have much inspiration to draw upon: **

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Elena finally breached the last stair, her foot as heavy as led. She quietly rounded the corner, tiptoeing down the hallway and rehearsing the words she had prepared for Ezio, not all of them friendly. More than anything, she was appalled at her sister. She was _married_! True, Ezio had a way of making women forget that they were, with his lopsided grin and mischievous fingers and luscious voice; even Elena had succumbed to him on more than one occasion. But that was years ago and she had learned to outgrow his charms…or so she hoped.

Elena wrapped her hand around the door handle and slowly, halfheartedly pushed her way into the room. Shafts of dawn sunlight beamed across the room, their inner core light sparkling with dust. Elena softly stepped onto the hardwood floors, instinctively glancing around at the spare furnishings; a simple dresser of dark wood, a few maroon chairs, a table upon which her sister had undoubtedly sat at to write many a letter to her older sister back home, and in the middle of the chamber was the four-post bed. She crept over to the bedside and peered into the jumbled mess of wine-colored blankets, praying and cursing to herself at the same time.

A deep-throated snore sounded from beneath the sheets. Elena's heart batted against her ribcage, even as her cocoa-colored eyes narrowed into dark slits and her hands perched themselves on her hips.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze."

The cooing pigeons outside the window were the only response she got.

"Ezio."

Finding the edge of the blanket, she ripped back the sheets, revealing a very shirtless, snoring Ezio sprawled out upon the bed as if it were his own. Elena rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She refused to even give herself the chance to admire his well-defined chest or his dark hair tied back in a red ribbon or his tanned skin tone that was so excellently flattered by the surrounding crimson sheets. Instead, she brooded on the idea of how badly she wanted to swat him in the face with one of the pillows.

"Remarkable," she muttered. "Six years later and I find you in the exact same position I left you."

"Actually, the position was more like this."

Elena jumped back before his hand could completely encircle her waist. Once out of his reach, she glared at the sly grin her was giving her.

"Ezio! You imbecille (jerk)!"

"I've missed you too, Elena."

Her cheeks blazed pink at the sound of his deep, purring voice. Ezio turned onto his side, peered up at her with those burning, dark eyes, and Elena swore he was doing his best impression of some kind of Greek god.

Elena grabbed for one of the pillows. "I'm sorry I can't say the same. In fact I've come here to tell you to leave. Now."

"Now just a minute, signorina," he drawled, calm as day. "Let me explain myself."

Elena let out a bark of laughter. "Explain yourself indeed." She gave a conspicuous glance towards where his bare hips met the blanket. "Oh, I think it's quite clear, amico mio (my friend)."

"Now, now, things are not always what they seem."

"You least of all."

"Elena—"

She walloped him hard enough to rip open a seam in the pillow and a small explosion of feathers coincided with his muffled grunt.

"Get out! Before Fina returns with my mother and father!"

"Sì, sì! Fetch my belongings then, will you? They're on the table."

Elena snatched the cloak and the clothes and tossed them into Ezio's face.

He chuckled as he slid on his breeches. "Why so angry, Elena?"

"Idiota, did you expect me to rejoice at the sight of you in my younger sister's bed?"

"I was hoping you would join us, at the very least."

She whacked him again, making him smile and drop the boot he was trying to put on. As an added insult, she tossed his cloak over his face and shoved him back onto the bed.

"Bastardo. Serafina may not realize it, but _I _don't appreciate you using us as one of your many personal brothels."

His face reappeared from under the cloak, looking slightly hurt; a ridiculous expression for him combined with the tousled mess his hair had just become.

"Elena." He stood and slowly closed the gap between them, using those dark, luscious eyes to bore into her. "Is that honestly what you think of me?"

She laughed and spread her hands out toward the unmade bed. "What do you think, Ezio? How else do you expect me to remember you?"

"Actually, there is something I—"

Somewhere downstairs, the front door swung open and a chorus of voices wafted up through the wooden floorboards. To Elena, the idea of diving out one of the open windows and drowning herself in the nearest canal suddenly seemed very reasonable.

Panicking, she placed her hands on his chest plates and shoved him backwards. To her surprise, he let her move him. "Ezio! Go! Now!"

"Elena, I need—"

"No! You must leave! If my mother and father see you—"

"Wait, Elena! I need to talk to you!"

"Not now, Ezio!"

He grunted as she slammed him against the windowsill and then froze. She could hear the wooden staircase creaking as a small crowd made their way upstairs. Out in the hall, Serafina laughed too loudly at something; a forewarning for her elder sister.

Elena's eyes refocused on the man before her, who showed no interest in making any sort of attempt to leave, and she hissed between her teeth, "Ezio, per l'amor di Dio!" (for the love of God!)

"Promise me," he said, halfheartedly beginning to climb out the window. "I need to talk to you about something—"

"Sì, sì, just please—"

On the other side of the room, the door handle danced in its crevice. Elena sucked in a quick breath and nearly threw herself out the window as she shoved her shoulder into Ezio.

"Merda!" (Shit!)

The hooded man fell from view and Elena turned to face her entering sister and parents just as her stomach dropped into her heels.

"Mama! Papa!"

"Ah, Serafina! It's beautiful!" their mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together at the sight of the bedchamber. Their father ambled around blindly, and as Serafina guided him away from the bedpost he was about to run into, she cast Elena an anxious look.

"I knew it," their mother spouted heartily as she contentedly surveyed the room. "I knew Alessandro was a good man for you. He's done well for you both. Oh! Look at this blanket! How beautiful!"

"Sì, Mama. His mother stitched that for us."

"Benedica il suo cuore." (Bless her heart.)

Elena caught her sister's eye and tried to give a reassuring grin. But Fina's eyes suddenly tripled in size and she distinctly motioned towards the window ledge behind Elena. Glancing behind her, Elena heard the blood in her head rush past her ears, taking all of the color in her skin with it. A pair of gauntleted hands still clung to the window ledge.

"Oh, Serafina, do you have a good view from your window?" their father asked and began to lead his youngest daughter towards the only light he could discern in his failing eyes.

Peering over the sill, Elena's tight-lipped glare bore deep into the shadowy hood. If only she could spit into it like she wanted to.

"The eastern docks," Ezio hissed.

She could hear her mother approaching from behind. "Ah, look! The sun must rise in your window every morning, Fina. But Dio, that smell…don't you tire of it?"

"Oh, sì," the blonde woman was talking through nearly clenched teeth. "Although it's not so bad when the window is _closed_."

A cunning grin broke across Elena's lips. "Sì! You're right, Fina! Let me just close the windows."

Smile still in place, she grabbed a firm hold of the latches on each window and pulled as hard as she could, slamming them shut so forcefully the glass rattled in the frames. A swift curse was shortly followed by a wood-splintering crash as the assassin plummeted several stories into a peddler's wagon below. Stifling the urge to laugh, she turned to her sister and smiled victoriously instead.

Her mother jumped at the sound of the banging glass. "Gesù Cristo, Elena! There's no need to sabotage your sister's house like that! Have a little more—delicacy—in your grasp, for God's sake!"

"Dispiace, Mama," Elena said. (Sorry, Mama.) She glanced back out the window and onto the cobblestone streets below, where a hooded, white figure was limping away from a very angry medicine peddler. "I was trying to close it against the wind."

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**A/N: I love when Ezio gets what's coming to him ^_^ Much, much, more to follow. Thank you SO MUCH for being so patient with me. I hope you're enjoying it thus far! **


	3. Candlelight Tears

**A/N: So encouraged by all the feedback I'm getting from you guys! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all had wonderful holidays! **

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Elena watched as the candle she had set down on the windowsill flickered steadily, it's reflection mirrored in the foggy, salted glass. A faint moonlight danced on the rippling, inky surfaces of the canals outside. Golden light burned within a few street lanterns hanging from shop posts and inn signs, helping to scatter some of the nearby shadows, but for the most part Venezia had become a quiet, sleeping world lost in the peaceful darkness of night. Elena sighed despairingly. The entire world was slumbering, and she was too restless to even sit in a chair.

"Elena. Elena, are you asleep?"

"I wish."

Serafina entered and closed the door behind her. No sooner was it latched, then she trotted over to her older sister and said,

"Grazie. A thousand times, Elena, grazie—"

"Why did you let him in?"

Serafina fumbled for words for a moment. "He came to see you. Honestly. He came here to ask me where he could find you."

Elena smirked. "And found something better, it seems."

"No, Elena. That's not how it happened."

"That's exactly how it happened!" Elena laughed bitterly and walked over to the small wooden bed, plopping herself upon the rickety old mess of sheets. Staring up at the ceiling, she rambled on, "And I know he's charming and handsome and tempting, but it's just a game to him, Fina. You shouldn't let him play you."

Serafina set down her candle on a nearby chest and planted her hands on her hips. "Good advice coming from the woman who was readily playing his game only a few years ago."

"Sì, and now I know better."

"Know what?"

"That if I kept it up, I would be having his children one day, Dio non voglia." (God forbid)

"Bene (fine), so he managed to seduce me and I made a foolish mistake. But he—"

"You would do well to have this be the first and last mistake with Ezio. He knows exactly what he's doing."

Serafina leapt onto the bed and landed next to her sister's head, much like the 5-year-old that never truly grew out of her. Elena looked up at her younger sibling, admiring the way the dim candlelight traced the soft, golden curls that fell around her pretty face.

"Elena, why do you dislike Ezio so much?"

"I don't dislike him. On the contrary, he's a good man. I'm only trying to spare you from doing something you'll regret."

"Like what?" Serafina's blue eyes suddenly illuminated with wonder. "Do you regret something?"

Elena sighed and turned her eyes back to the ceiling.

_Sì. _

"Elena." Serafina wrapped her fingers around her sister's arm in a way that made Elena want to reach for it and hold it tight. "I know you and Ezio…you…would you say you were lovers?"

"No," she smirked.

"But you were close."

Elena shook her head. "We were friends. And we still are. But we were friends that enjoyed the occasional roll in the hay and therein lies the problem. It may have been excusable if we actually were lovers, but to sleep with each other because it was convenient and fun…no one could overlook that."

The small scrunched skin between Serafina's eyebrows told Elena she was beginning to ramble again. Taking a deep breath, she searched for the simplest, boldest words she could conjure,

"It deems you a whore; scandalous and unchaste. Once word spreads, your reputation as one of Ezio's many women renders you…unwanted. Whether Mama and Papa are aware of it, I don't know, but half of Firenze certainly is."

Serafina chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "You think it's because of Ezio you are still a maiden?"

Elena shrugged. "Like I said, Fina, it's a game of sorts. I chose to play it and in some ways, sì, I wish I hadn't. And I didn't even have much to lose. But you—you have a husband! Think of everything you're risking when you let Ezio in; your marriage to Alessandro, our parent's faith in you, your own stature. It makes me sick to think you could lose it all so easily if anyone were to find out. And it makes me mad that Ezio would jeopardize you like that. Bastardo."

Serafina's gaze fell on the blankets she was fiddling with. "Married," she muttered. "Sometimes I forget I am. Or I think I'm married to some ghost that comes to haunt the house every once in a while."

Elena sat up. Now it was her turn to reach for her sister's hand. "I can't imagine what it must be like."

Serafina tossed her a sad little smile. "It's not easy. I know it's no excuse, but it is lonely when Alessandro's gone."

For a brief moment, Elena pitied the image of her sister waiting by the window for her husband to come home from sea. How she must spend her days wandering throughout an empty house, patiently occupying herself with cooking, cleaning, counting the days…and having to come to an empty bed at night.

And then the image of Ezio snoring in her sister's bed resurfaced in her mind.

"I know. But Ezio knows this now, too. And while I don't doubt that his heart softens for your circumstance, he tends to think with his virilità (manhood), more often than naught."

Serafina smiled wickedly. "E che la virilità!" (And what a manhood!)

The sisters dissolved into a fit of giggles and Elena felt her cheeks blushing a rosy red, despite herself.

"I know you know what I'm talking about!" Serafina said. "Don't pretend you don't know!"

"Sì, sì, he's quite the stallion."

Elena watched with a smile as her sister rolled around on the bed, laughing hysterically, burying her face in the pillows so as not to wake their parents.

_You'd never guess that she's the one who's married_, Elena thought.

When the giddy fit of laughter had subsided, Serafina sat up next to her sister again, panting.

"What did he say to you when you saw him?"

Elena shook her head. "Stupid things," she said quietly.

"But did he say what he wanted?"

"No."

The blonde woman's lips pouted in disappointment. "He was in Roma, you know."

"Roma?" She nodded. "Perché?" (Why?)

"We…didn't get that far. He didn't say why he wanted to see you?"  
"We didn't get that far, either. He said he wants to speak to me."

"About what?" Elena shrugged. "But you're going to, right? Elena. A man doesn't travel all the way from Roma just to ask how you've been faring."

"Somehow, I doubt his sole reason for coming to Venezia was to look for me."

Serafina whacked a pillow over her sister's head. "Don't be such a pessimista (pessimist)."

"Fina," Elena snatched the pillow from her sister and hugged it tightly. "Even if he is here for some kind of romantic notion, I don't want him to be."

"Perché? I thought you said he was a good man."

"He is, but…" Whatever else she had meant to say faded away into lost thought.

"You never forgave him for taking Gabriele." Elena looked over at her younger sister and those doll-like eyes.

"Gabriele is a grown man. He can do whatever he wants. If he chooses to follow Ezio, then so be it."

Serafina looked unconvinced. "Why did it bother you, then? When Gabriele left? I know you were much closer to him than I, but still…you were so angry when you found out."

Elena's gaze found the flickering flame on the windowsill and she watched as the wax drippings run down the yellowy candle like tears. "I was afraid that Gabriele followed Ezio for the wrong reasons. And I was angry with both of them for leaving without any sort of parting farewell."

Elena made an effort to never lie to her younger sister, but there were certain truths she kept locked away from everyone, even herself. Truths that she'd rather ignore and pretend they didn't exist. Yet the more she contemplated the thought, sitting in a dark bedroom and watching the candle slowly burn itself out, the more she realized her anger stemmed not from their leaving, but from being left behind.

"Sì," she eventually sighed. "Part of me wants to hold a grudge until the day comes that I can beat the sense out of both of them. The only problem is that I'm very fond of both of them."

Serafina smiled and combed her slender fingers through her sister's hair, wincing a little when they became entangled in one of many knots. "Well, I think you should go talk to him. At least see what Ezio wants. Who knows? Perhaps he has a way to reunite you with Gabriele."

Elena said nothing. It was too much to realistically hope for—she'd been wishing to see her elder brother ever since he'd disappeared with Ezio on that winter's eve several years ago. All she really needed to know was that he was alive and well. And only the assassino could tell her the truth.

"Then tell me…how do I get to the eastern docks?"

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**A/N: So a little more explained here...I hope everything makes decent sense and I didn't forget any important details. Thanks so very much you guys! You all rule! =D **


	4. Maledica quella donna

**A/N: Nearly half a year between updates and you still want to follow this story. You guys are awesome. **

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The clouds hung heavy and dark in the sky on the day Elena ventured towards the eastern district. The cobblestone streets were slick and wet from rain that had fallen during the night, and the air was thick and damp with the promise of future downpours. The canals were flat, grey veins running calmly through the city, embellished here and there by the occasional whirlpool. Most of the gondolas sat empty and cold, slowly filling with rainwater as the day lagged on. Even the steadfast pigeons seemed to have abandoned their posts for the day.

Yet even on days when the sun seemed to have completely deserted its throne in the sky, the peddlers and tailors never failed to appear under the wooden roofs of their wagons, keeping vigilant eyes on any potential customers, of which there were very few.

"Grazie."

Elena traded a few coin with an older gentleman, who in turn handed her a beautiful red apple without so much as a single scrape or bruise. She smiled prettily at him and he fumbled the coins into a nearby puddle. When she offered to gather them for him, he hurriedly brushed her away, obviously embarrassed. Still smiling, Elena shrugged and wandered off towards the docks.

Not far from the dilapidated piers, she found a small patch of land that was little more than a square sandbank that barely rose above the grey waters of the canal. Stonewalls as tall as she bordered the small, green square that housed a lone, sturdy tree. Still holding her apple, Elena knelt by the water's edge and watched as sporadic raindrops triggered ripples on the tranquil surface. Somewhere in the distance, cathedral bells tolled the hour.

_Thud_.

Grinning, she slowly stood and turned around to face her stalker. For a brief moment, she felt somewhat privileged to gaze upon the white hood that usually bode the promise of death to those who saw it. Beneath the hood, she could just make out very serious, unsmiling lips surrounded by a well-trimmed beard.

"Buongiorno, Ezio," she said smoothly, unable to stop grinning. "How are your fingers?"

"Better, now that they have something to strangle."

He wrapped his gauntleted hands around her neck, but never tightened his grip. Elena didn't move.

"You couldn't. Even if you wanted to."  
"Oh trust me, signorina. I want to."

But his smile said otherwise and he released her.

"I'm sorry," she said, watching as he walked past to look out upon the grey canals. "But there was no other way to get rid of you in time. Trust me; I did you a favor."

"A favor, was it?" He turned back around with that impish grin twisting the scar on his lips. "Well, as far as favors go, I've had rougher."

Elena rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ezio…" She crossed her arms and leaned close against the tree trunk, away from the drizzle that was beginning to turn into a steady rain. "So…here we are. As requested. Exactly what is it that's brought you all the way from Roma?"

The assassin slowly walked towards Elena and she couldn't' help but admire the intimidating array of lethal blades and ornamental, silvery armor that bedecked his tall, robust figure. And the way he walked…as if nothing could touch him. "I take it you've talked with Serafina."

"Talked, argued, scolded…whatever you wish to call it." Elena bit into her apple. "Don't tempt her like that again, Ezio. If I find you near her house again, I promise I'll drown you in the canal myself."

"Whoa, whoa, signorina. Perhaps your sister was the one who tempted me. Why am I always the one getting blamed?"

Elena grinned into that dark hood. "Because I know you, Ezio. And I know my sister."

That wicked grin resurfaced and he turned away. "Not as well as you may think." Elena frowned. "She tells me you still live with your mother and father in Firenze."

She said nothing and bit into her apple, but when he turned around and gave her an expectant look, she acknowledged him with a curt,

"Sì."

"You…are not engaged?"

Elena let her shoulders slump as her eyes rolled to the heavens once more. "Ezio, tell me what it is you've come here for. I have better things I could be doing with my time instead of making trifle conversation."

It wasn't until after the words had left her mouth that she realized what he'd asked and her mind was suddenly flying at the speed of light. Engaged? What did he care? Could he…could he really be serious about a proposal? Ridiculous. This was Ezio Auditore, Italy's most infamous whoring assassin who enjoyed nothing more than a good goblet of wine and several women by his side. How could she even consider being bound to such a name? Not that she had anything to lose, but—

"I'll take that as a no," he murmured.

She took a nervous bite of her apple and quickly changed the subject. "What are you doing in Roma, anyway? I thought you were living in the countryside…in Monteriggioni."

His dark eyes, hidden from Elena by the hood, grew distant. "Not anymore. The villa was destroyed by the Borgia."

Elena nearly choked. "The Borgia? When? Why?"

Ever since the hanging of the Auditore family many years ago, she had come to learn to expect outlandish and dramatic stories from Ezio; the man dealt in blood and death as an assassin, after all. But his lengthy explanation consisted of conspiracies, Assassins, murder, corruption, Templars, betrayal, and some sacred artifact that he (and apparently the entire bloodline of assassins) insisted needed to be reclaimed from the Borgia. Overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance and magnitude of his tale, Elena did her best to listen and not laugh.

"The Borgia have taken everything from the people, Elena," he said. By this point, both of them were sitting comfortably in the wet grass beneath the tree. "Their money, their homes, their lives…the people of Roma are driven by fear and left to rot in the streets. But it's not just Roma they wish to conquer…all of Italia will fall to them if they are allowed to continue this madness. The apple cannot be left in their hands."

Elena tried to wrap her thoughts around what he was saying. "This apple…what does it do?"

Ezio plucked the half-eaten fruit from her hands and twirled it in his grasp. "It is an object of great power. The pope would use it to destroy his enemies and control the people of Italia. Even Uncle Mario wasn't sure of all that it is capable of, but I'm certain the Templars will use it as a weapon and enslave whoever they can to aid their conquests."

She chuckled despite herself and Ezio frowned at her.

"So you mean to kill the pope? Brilliant, Ezio," she said incredulously, making her laugh even more. Ezio didn't seem to find it as funny.

"I intend to take back the Apple of Eden and liberate the people of Roma."

Elena wrenched the red apple back from him and took another bite into its core. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to take on the papacy?"

"Well…it certainly can't be done by one assassin."

He left his sentence hanging in the air. Elena peered into the white hood and saw what looked like black eagle eyes piercing through her, making her skin crawl. All at once, her heart flipped inside her chest, her stomach plummeted to her ankles, and nervous laughter bubbled forth.

"Oh, so you want me to help you murder the pope! It gets even better!"

Elena stood and tossed the core of her apple into the canal. Distant thunder rolled through the sky as a new wave of deep blue-gray clouds billowed into the sky. "You're ridiculous, Ezio."

The assassin stood and brushed off his robes. "I come to you for help and you ridicule me. I should've known better."

"I don't mean to disappoint you," she said. "But you're going to need more than just one or two friends to help you. You'll need an army at the very least."

"Sì." The calmness in his voice made her turn around. Ezio couldn't keep from grinning at her large, brown eyes and pouting lower lip. _Belle._ (Beautiful)

"Elena." He took a step forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. "If you come with me, I will show you how to fight. I can show you how to become an assassino."

"Me." Her mouth had gone dry. "Why me?"

"Because I know you could do it. My memories of you are much fonder than yours are of me, apparently. And because you're a friend. A friend that I can trust."

"You trust me?"

Ezio stood back, his voice dropping several tones. "Should I not?"

"I don't think you should be trusting anyone with such secrets."

He nodded, as if pleased. "Spoken like a true assassino."

Fear suddenly took hold of her heart and she turned her eyes upon the ground.

"Is this what became of Gabriele?"

Ezio frowned. "Gabriele?"

"Sì, Gabriele. My elder brother. He ran off with you some years ago after you persuaded him to leave us."

"I didn't persuade him to leave you. Gabriele followed me of his own accord. As a matter of fact, he spent much of his time on his own, away from me at all."

"Where is he now, Ezio?" Elena bit back a fearful tear.

The assassin seemed reluctant to say anything. Just when she was ready to grab him by his cape and pummel him into the ground until he told her everything he knew of Gabriele, he said,

"He is in Roma."

"Grazie a Dio! (Thank God) Is he well?"

"Sì."

She was grateful for the pouring rain that was beginning to seep through the tree leaves and onto her face; it hid the few tears that were beginning to run down her cheeks.

"Bene. (Good) I'm glad."

"He has proven to be a good friend over the years," Ezio said. Maybe it was the callous life of an assassin, or that everything paled in comparison to her joy, but he sounded apathetic to her ears. "And a fine soldier."

"An assassino?"

"A spy. He's employed as one of the Borgia guards, but in truth, he serves the assassins."

Elena's breath caught in her throat. Gabriele? A spy? The brother she remembered was compassionate, patient, artistic, and had a great sense of rhythm. To imagine him clad in metal armor, patrolling the streets of Roma with a sword at his hip was something she could hardly fathom.

Ezio waited patiently in the drenching rain as Elena took time to sort her thoughts. He was afraid to say more, since he couldn't tell whether she was about to burst into laughter or tears.

"Gabriele." Elena let her brother's name pass her lips once more. Turning her alighted eyes back on the assassin, she said, "When you see him again, would you give him a message for me?"

"Why don't you come with me to Roma and give it to him yourself?" he replied with a lopsided grin.

"Ezio, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't just leave Mama and Papa. I have no money, no provisions."

"No obligation to stay." Elena blinked. "Elena, what's keeping you here? You have no husband, no children."

"Senza futuro? (No future?) Is that what you're trying to say?"

The word blurted out before he could take it back. "Forse." (Maybe.)

Elena threw up her hands. "Ugh! Stronzo!" (Asshole!)

Spinning on her heel, she climbed up over the rock wall and strode into the sparse crowds, snubbing Ezio's attempts to keep up with her as she sped along the slick cobblestone roads.

"Elena…Elena, wait!"

"I thought that finding you in my sister's bed was a big enough slap in the face, but no! You want to scorn my way of life!"

"That's not what I meant!"

"I don't care. It's what you said." She roughly brushed past a man carrying a wooden crate full of sopping, forlorn-looking chickens. Trying not to loose sight of her—the woman was more agile than many of his targets—Ezio nearly toppled the man, making him drop his crate on the rock road. It splintered easily and the fowl noisily flapped their way to freedom. Before the man could employ a cunning string of curse words, Ezio threw him a rich handful of Florins.

"Dispiace, messere." (Sorry, sir.)

"Why don't you just leave?" Elena spat. "Go back to Roma and try to save the world and your precious apple!"

"I thought you would want to see Roma! Or your brother, at the very least. When we first left, he told me how disappointed you would be that we weren't taking you with us."

Elena let out a bark of laughter. "So glad you remembered that…six years later! When it's of convenience to you! You only find me now because you need help, not because you want me there."

Ezio became entangled in a slow-moving herd of people. With his patience wearing thin, he elbowed his way through them. "That's not true," he growled. "If all I wanted was another notch on my belt, I could've picked the beggar on the street! But of all the people in Italia, I came to find you, Elena! And traveling from Roma to Venezia is not exactly convenient! Elena! Are you even listening to me?"

As he entered a small square, up ahead he saw her slender figure trotting away through the crowds. Her pretty face flashed back at him as she glanced over her shoulder. Then, she had the gall to smile.

Ezio shook his head. "Maledica quella donna." (Damn that woman.)

* * *

**A/N: So I realize that there are some time discrepancies, but let's overlook those, shall we? (for those hardcore AC fans, don't try to make sense of the timeline here. It doesn't work lol) ^_^**

**I'm also curious as to what you guys think of Elena at this point; intriguing? annoying? boring? Not enough Ezio? haha...though, if you're like me, that always seems to be the case =P Let me know what you think! Thanks so much you guys! =D **


	5. Roma

With her hair sopped against her skin, Elena raced through the streets, dodging down narrow back alleys and sprinting through open plazas, much to the disapproval of many of the townspeople. Above her, tracking her every dodge and turn, the assassin raced her from atop the roofs, leaping from ledge to ledge.

Light and shadow cast their silhouettes upon Elena as she ran, keeping a careful eye on the uneven cobblestone roads. The rain made her slip more than once. Turning a corner, she nearly collided with a man and his horse, making the animal spook and rear.

"Dispiace, messere!"

She left the man's angry string of curse words behind as she continued on to her sister's house. Panting and sweating, she finally arrived at the small crossroad where her sister's residence sat on a corner, the back end of the building precariously teetering on the canal embankment. Elena clung to a column of stone and vigorously scanned the intersection for a white hood or brown half-cloak. Looking up, she saw no figure perched against the sky, no crouching menace waiting to pounce upon its quarry.

Still, she hesitated. The image of that hooded figure following her through the crowds was unnerving, even as a friend. She couldn't imagine how his enemies must dream and live in fear.

She crossed over to the stoop and grabbed for the door handle. That was as far as she got before a strong arm blocked her off across the shoulders and something cool and slender touched her throat.

"Scusa, signorina," Ezio whispered low in her ear. "Perhaps you've not heard, but word has spread that there is a dangerous assassino in Venezia. I would be careful not to turn my back on him, if I were you."

Smiling, she slowly turned out of his grasp. "Then I suppose I'm dead."

Ezio retracted his blade and kept a watchful eye on the small unit of guards that were suspiciously eyeing him from across the road. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Sì, Ezio. I heard you. And I'm not sure if I'm frightened or flattered."

The assassin blinked, confused. "Flattered? Sounded like you were insulted, to me."

Her sharp eyes flirted with him and a knowing grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, hinting that she was playing some game with him; and she was making up the rules as she went. He'd never known a woman so frustrating in all his life. Convinced he'd wasted his time, he was about to walk away when she caught and held his gaze.

"Ezio, I'm honored you think so highly of me," she said. "Why, I cannot imagine. I'm an insolent, aging burden of a maiden who likes to spend her time shoveling haystacks and cleaning barns. And I enjoy it. I could never kill anyone for the sake of a city or an apple, holy and sacred no doubt. I don't want to travel all the way to Roma and try to overthrow the pope or whatever it is you plant to do. I just don't want to. I don't care."

That white hood bowed ever so lightly, as if in resignation. "If that's how you feel, Elena. But," he held a gloved finger up to her. "I think you underestimate yourself. And you'd be surprised; sometimes to be an assassino, it's important not to care."

Elena frowned, but he was already beginning to back away, his boots thudding heavily on the mud.

"Should you change your mind, we leave in a fortnight by the southern gate at dawn. Addio, Elena." (Farewell, Elena).

Elena thought twice about following him, but she knew that he'd vanish before she could even make it off of the stoop. The pouring rain swallowed up the assassin and he disappeared into Venezia, a white ghost amongst a grey world.

She lingered on the porch a while longer and tried to remember the Ezio she had known in Firenze; what he looked like, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself.

Because he certainly was not the man she'd just spoken with.

* * *

Nearly two weeks later and Elena was still hearing Ezio's voice echoing off the walls of her skull.

She did _not_ want to go to Roma. She did _not _want to fight against Templars (or anyone for that matter), and she most certainly did _not_, under any circumstances, want to become an assassin. Ever. She could never take the life of another human being. She had seen the edges of his white tunic—stained a faint pink by the blood of his enemies; the very thought of bathing in so much murder made her skin crawl. And if she would not serve him as an assassin, then he would most likely make use of her as a chambermaid or cook. Or worse yet, his mistress.

Of these things she was certain. And yet there was one thing that was working against her resolve; one unassuming seed Ezio had planted that was beginning to take root and infest her thoughts like a vine growing wild and unchecked.

"Mamma?" Elena wandered into the small kitchen where her mother was preparing potatoes. The air smelled of freshly cut basil and smoldering coals. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sì, sì, of course, cara (dear). Would you mind slicing the bread there on the table, per favore?" (please?)

Her mother tossed down a large knife onto the wooden countertop and turned back to her potatoes. Elena smiled. Her mother had such a way of demanding things so politely. Even she would make a better assassin than herself. Knowing her mother, she'd cook a royal meal for the pope, humor him with a bottle of wine, then slide the butcher knife across the table and ask him if he'd "mind" slitting his own throat. And God pity the man if he refused.

Disgusted by her own train of thought, Elena shook her head and asked,

"Would you ever want to see Gabriele again?"

She kept her gaze firmly locked on the vegetables. Elena watched as she grabbed for a knife and proceeded to slice them with more force than necessary.

"Your brother," she said between heavy breaths, "while he'll always remain my child, is no longer welcome in this household. Since he chose to abandon us, so shall we turn our backs on him. I don't mean to speak poorly of him, however—"

"Sì, è fare." (Yes you do.)

"Elena." She turned around to face her daughter. "Your father and I had given everything to that boy; a roof over his head, a plot of land for him to reap and sow. We even had a marriage arranged for him with a lovely young woman."

Elena bowed her head away from the conversation. "Sì, I remember."

"And he scoffed at all of it. All of it. All of your father's hard work and our careful planning and the ungrateful monello (brat) threw all of it away so he could run off to wherever it is he went, and—"

"He's in Roma."

Her mother's eyes widened. "What? Elena, don't play games with an old woman's heart, per carità!" (for pity's sake!)

"I'm not, Mamma." Elena found it easier to keep her eyes on the bread. "He's in Roma, serving the pope as a city guard."

"Where did you hear this?"

"An old friend."

"Chi?" (who?)

Elena paused. "You remember Ezio Auditore?"

Her mother looked as though Elena had just told her she had plague.

"Oh Dio…" her mother murmured. Elena chuckled. "He's here? In Venezia?"

"He was."

"Elena," her mother warned. "You should not speak with that man. You should never even see him. Do you know what would happen if the guards caught you—"

"Mamma, basta." (enough)

Silence filled the space between them for a moment.

"Did…did you say the pope?"

"Sì, Mamma. He's a soldier. I suppose he needed more adventure in his life

or something. But it is quite the position, is it not? And to be in Roma of all places."

"Feh. Filthy, stinking city. Full of rats and thieves."

Elena put aside the bread she'd finished slicing and looked at her dirty reflection in the knife's blade. "How can you be so cross with him, Mamma? Your son is not only alive, but successful! And happy, I'm sure.

Her mother's mouth grew very thin and tight. "Adventure." She wheeled around again to the half-shaved potatoes on the countertop. "Well…I'm glad he found it."

Elena turned and left the kitchen, realizing her mother's wounds ran either too deep to be healed, or she bore none at all.

"No you're not."

* * *

One late evening, Elena was lying on her back on the bed she shared with her sister, staring up at the ceiling and letting the several goblets of warm wine she'd had earlier swim around in her head as much as her belly. She'd let the window open for a soft, salty breeze and to cool her heated, rosy cheeks. The thoughts that passed through her head made no sense to her and she had no control of the dipping sensation that the world seemed to be experiencing at the moment. Perhaps the back end of the building was about to collapse into the canal after all.

Her sister threw her sleeping frock over her head and crawled into bed beside Elena. Her breath, too, smelled of _vino_.

"You're thinking," she said, collapsing into the blankets and wrapping her arms around her older sister. "I can tell. You told him no, but here you are. You're thinking really hard about it because you really want to go with Ezio so you can get a piece of that culo." (ass)

"You say stupid things when you're drink."

"I know. But I say true things. And it's true—Ezio fills his breeches quite nice. In the back and front."

She dissolved into a hysterical fit of giggles while Elena shook her head and chuckled despite herself.

"You're just as bad as Gabriele," she muttered.

"Che cosa?" (What?)

"Nothing."

"So go!" Serafina flung her hand up to the ceiling, as if that would propel them somewhere. "Go to Roma! Go with Ezio! Go see Gabriele!"

"And do what? Live off of Ezio?"

"Sì. You don't have any qualms about living off of Mamma and Papa. What's the difference?"

Elena frowned. Her sister was right. Apparently the wine was truth serum indeed.

"Mamma would kill me if I left. She hates Ezio."

"Oh, why do you care so much about Mamma?"

"Fina, shh."  
"No!" Serafina tried to sit up quickly. "If you want to see Gabriele, then you should! You are a grown woman, Elena, and you can make choices of your own! Mamma can piss off! The world does not revolve around that woman, especially your world!"

"Fina!"

"And if you want it to include Ezio or Gabriele or the even the pope, then so it be! Mamma was always quick to smack our hands if we did anything wrong—she still is. Look at what she did to Gabriele. He disobeyed the life she handed to him and now she rejects his very name!" An impressive, fermented belch accompanied the last word.

"They were only trying to provide for him."

Elena's words never reached her sister's ears. "But if you were to leave for Roma, she would do the same thing. And oh, if she knew! If only she knew of my life here in Venezia, she would have me hung!"

Elena frowned over at her sister. "Perché?" (Why?)

"Oh, she would skin me for being unfaithful to Alessandro."

"And Ezio, too," she agreed.

"And Bernardo, the blacksmith that lives down the road. And I indulged the advances of Lucio one day, but only because he was offering me a very fair price for a tapestry that I had to have. But believe me, Savino…Savino is a young man that not even you could resist, my cross-legged sister! He has the most beautiful eyes, and big, strong—"

Elena tried to listen, but her brain was panicking as the names were rattled off as if they were a list for what the fetch at the daily market.

_Perhaps you do not know your sister as well as you think. _

Elena recoiled at the idea of how many men had been in her sister's bed; the bed she was lying in at that very moment.

"Wait," she interrupted her sister. "Ezio was not the only one?"

Serafina waved her hands dismissively. "No, no, Ezio was the only one to make it so far. Just Ezio. And I think Savino did once."

"Ugh."

Elena threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled in the dark across the room, cursing loudly when she hit her knee on the corner of a chest.

"Cazzo!" (Fuck!)

"Elena? Elena, where are you going?"

"If I had a stronger backbone, I'd skin you myself!" she hissed through the darkness. "How could you?"

"What?"

"You have everything! You have a home, and a livelihood, and a husband that loves you, and you want to be a common whore! I don't understand! If I were you, I'd be working hard to preserve everything, not chance it to some lecherous blacksmith or some salivating youth! You have so much, Serafina!"  
Her younger sister sat up, bloodshot eyes trying to see through the candlelit dark. "So? You never threw such a fit when Gabriele left! He had just as much as I, and yet you're fine with that!"

"That's different!"

"How so?""

"Because I see you living the life I've always wanted!" she shouted. "And I see you throwing it away!"

Flinching at the sound of her own voice (Elena never yelled), she turned on her heel and marched her way down the stairs and through the front door, slamming it on her way out.

The boiling, wine-infused blood coursing through her veins took her deep within the city. In the dark, predawn hours of the morning, a faint fog clung to the canal waters and cast an eerie glow around the burning lanterns that hung from shop signs and above doorways. The air was damp and cool, but it felt refreshing on her heated skin. Gondolas floated sleepily against the docks, the water lapping softly at their wooden sides.

Elena sat on such a dock with her legs dangling over the edge, listening to the lazy sloshing of the water and waiting for the deep blue skies to show a hint of grey dawn. She must've twiddled with the piece of hay in her hands for hours, tying it in a loop and untying it, ripping it into pieces and finally tossing them into the tiny swells of the canal. She tried very carefully not to listen too closely to either her mind or her heart, though both seemed intent on winning a battle in her favor.

The horizon turned a faint purple, then grey, and then eventually a golden light broke upon the city of Venezia, bringing with it a soft breeze. She took a deep breath, stood and turned her back on the rising sun.

* * *

Elena approached the massive stone archway cautiously and looked up at the black gate that had been raised so high it looked like teeth hanging from some beast's gaping mouth.

Ever present, the gray-green shores and their scent of low tide hugged the southern gate on one side, while the other buffered the outer city wall. The mud path that led underneath the archway hardly seemed ceremonial enough for the journey she was about to take.

She walked slowly underneath the gate and refocused her gaze on the path ahead. A patchy network of roads led wound through what was little more than a marsh filled with decaying shacks. Beyond that was another great stonewall and gateway, the other side of which led to the rest of Italia.

Just on the other side of the first stonewall, Elena spotted a small caravan in the shadows of the battlement preparing to leave. A hooded figure in white noticed her first, standing idly amongst the flow of people. With that effortless and almost cocky saunter, he walked over to her with a grey stallion in tow.

He said nothing at first, and Elena was more than a little daunted by the fact that she couldn't see anything beneath his hood, save for his mouth.

"So then…" she said. "Roma?"

"Roma." The low, husky voice replied. "But first…"

With one finger, Ezio motioned for her to follow him. He relinquished the reins of the stallion to another traveler of the convoy—a mercenary, by the looks of him—and led her out onto a rotting pier. Elena skeptically eyed the water beneath them and scrunched her nose at the smell that came from the sickly green bubbles that broke the surface.

Ezio stopped at the outermost edge. Elena stood beside him, expecting some solemn lecture on the life ahead of her or his inquiry as to why she changed her mind. But none of this ever came.

Without warning, Ezio smoothly crossed her ankle with his boot and shoved her from behind, off the dock and into the vile water below.

Stunned, Elena broke the thick surface and violently coughed until she thought was ready to vomit. Ezio was already smoothly walking away, his half-cloak blowing picturesquely behind him.

"Ezio! What the hell was that for?"

The assassin never looked behind him, so as to keep his pleased grin hidden from her.

"For being such a pain in my ass. Now hurry. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Go Ezio ^_- Goes to show I'm not completely biased towards my OC's. **

** Hope you're still enjoying it! =D Thanks, guys! **


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